


A Tender Heart

by river_soul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/M, This is pure Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-25 16:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30091716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpired fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write a soft series with Bucky but I am also hopelessly in love with the trash world of A/B/O. Many thanks to @whisperlullaby and @emmabarnes for their beta work.

“Fuck, Marry, Kill - Avengers Edition,” Sara announces over lunch one day, clapping her hands together loud enough to draw your attention from the book you’re reading. 

The rest of the women at the table, all fellow admins, share grins as they lean forward to hear Sara lay out the rules of the game, whispering excitedly between themselves. You feel a thread of anxiety, glancing at the table where Captain America and the Winter Soldier sit deep in discussion with Dr. Banner. They’re not exactly close by but you’ve heard rumors about the Captain’s excellent hearing. 

“Maybe you should do this somewhere else,” you suggest with a pointed look at the table behind you.

“Like they’re listening to a bunch of gossiping Omegas,” Sara says, with a dismissive wave, clearly unconcerned about being overheard. 

“You just don’t want to play because you’re embarrassed about your choices,” Kate singsongs at you with a knowing grin. 

“Kate,” you warn, fingers tensing around the book in your hands hard enough to crinkle the pages.

You’re still embarrassed to think about the Happy Hour you let Kate drag you to. Someone ordered shots and the next thing you knew you were gushing about your long-standing crush on Bucky Barnes. You were pretty sure you actually said his smokey, woodsy scent was like a campfire in your mouth. The whole night was hazy although Kate assured you that you were a fun drunk. Just very determined to wax poetic about the newest Avenger after one too many tequila shots.

“Her fuck and marry are the same. It’s very cute,” Kate tells the group as you glance nervously behind you to the table where the man in question is sitting. 

Bucky’s not talking but the expression on his face is intense as he listens to whatever the Captain tells him. The little furrow between his brows is endearing and for a moment you let your gaze linger on the sharp white teeth you see peeking out behind his plump lips. When you look back to the table, you’re startled to find Laura watching you with a nasty grin. Ever since you started working at the Compound the older Omega seemed to always make you the target of her rude comments and mean jokes. 

“Bucky Barnes?” she says, her disgust for the Alpha clear in her voice. “He’s nice to look at, I’ll give you that but he’s damaged goods. Don’t you want someone normal? Who isn’t going to turn psycho murderer on you? I know you’re desperate, hun, but come on,” she laughs.

“Shut up,” you tell her, half surprised by the venom in your own voice as you stand up, hands fisted at your side.

You’ve heard Laura put down plenty of people, yourself included, but hearing her talk so callously about Bucky gives you a strange burst of courage. It’s always been easier to stand up for others than yourself and this time is no exception. 

“You never have a kind word for anyone, you know that?” You say, voice loud and shrill. “How dare you speak about that man like you know him or what he went through. He’s a good and decent Alpha who risks his life every day to keep us safe.”

“Honey,” Kate urges, a hand on your forearm drawing your attention away from Laura’s smug face. 

It’s then you realize the cafeteria has gone deathly quiet and everyone is looking at you, including Bucky. Heat rushes to your face, humiliation churning in your gut as you bolt from the table, your book forgotten. 

–

You avoid the cafeteria for the next week, opting instead to eat your desk as you stew in embarrassment. The only good thing to come out of your outburst is the wide berth Laura gives you now, unwilling to even acknowledge your presence except through email. Part of you wishes you’d stood up to her earlier instead of losing your cool in the middle of the cafeteria but you can’t deny her silence is refreshing. 

You’re still overcome with a hot wave of anxiety every time you think of that day despite Kate’s assurance that Laura came out looking worse than you from the whole ordeal. She’d been more than happy to recount how Captain Rogers stopped by the table after you left to deliver a strongly worded reprimand to Laura for everyone to hear. Part of you thought about bribing Kenny in security with your famous cupcakes for a copy of the tape but that would mean having to watch your own humiliation and you didn’t want to relive that. In time, your embarrassment would fade and people would move on to the next topic of office gossip. 

The only thing you were truly upset by was your book. In your haste to leave, you’d forgotten it at the table. It was gone when you went back for it later and in the intervening days no one had turned it in to lost and found. You couldn’t imagine who’d want a beat-up old copy of the Goblet of Fire. The spine was fraying and several pages bore the wear and tear of a well-loved book. The only value it had was a sentimental one. It was nearly 15 years old and one of the last books your father bought for you before he died. You’d cried in the shower when you got home that first night. Even though it was only a book it felt a little like losing your father all over again. 

“Hey kiddo,” Kate greets, pulling you out of your thoughts. “We’re headed to lunch if you want to join us.”

“No thanks. Got a sandwich and my book,” you tell her, waving a copy of the Order of the Phoenix at her. 

You weren’t done reading the fourth Harry Potter book but you didn’t need to finish it. You knew the story by heart. Kate frowns and you can tell she’s gearing up to wheedle you until you agree to come to lunch but Sara’s breathless arrival cuts her off.

“Ok. So don’t freak out but like Bucky Barnes is here. To see you,” she tells you excitedly. “He asked for you by name and oh my god, he smells so good. It should be illegal to smell like that. It’s a wonder he doesn’t send Omegas into heat anywhere he goes,” she rambles.

“What?” You ask dumbly, eyes darting behind her to the imposing figure standing at the front desk.

Bucky’s staring at you when you meet his gaze, an unreadable expression on his face. He looks handsome as ever, long hair pulled back into a bun at the base of his neck and freshly shaved. He’s dressed in a pair of black slacks and a neat button down shirt that’s rolled up to reveal his forearms. You’ve never seen him wear anything so nice, he’s usually in workout clothes or jeans.

“Why don’t we give you two some privacy,” Kate says, ignoring the panicked expression on your face and the way you try to communicate you want her to stay with wide, imploring eyes. 

She grins, winking at you before turning around to face the other admins who are still hovering around their cubicles. “Lunchtime Omegas,” she reminds them, clapping her hands together and herding them out the door. 

You rise from your desk as Bucky makes his way towards you, the expression on his face growing more friendly by the second. His musky, woodsy scent washes over you when he stops just before your desk. The smell of him makes your mouth water and something in your gut twist pleasantly. You smooth your hands down the front of your dress, nervous and overwhelmed. 

“Mr. Barnes. I mean Sergeant,” you correct. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s Bucky,” he says with a smile. The low gravelly tone bleeds a little of the tension from your chest. “I wanted to return your book.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to help the pleased chirp you let out at the sight of your book in his large hands. 

When you reach out for it he doesn’t hand it over immediately and your expression falters. Instead, his bright blue eyes wander over your face and neck, lingering on the unblemished skin of your mating gland. The instinctual urge to cover it and turn away has your hand twitching at your side but you force yourself to remain still. He steps closer, lips parting to draw in a breath as his nostrils flare subtly. You’re startled to realize he’s trying to scent you.

“I’d like to court you,” he says with an unnerving amount of eye contact. “That is of course if you’re not seeing someone.”

“I’m not,” you tell him quietly.

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. You weren’t the type of Omega that Alphas dated, let alone superhero-Alphas. Too quiet and boring. Not the sexy and alluring Omegas who always had a face full of makeup and a swing in their hips. People normally assumed you’d end up with a Beta in the end. 

“That’s good,” Bucky says smoothly, setting the book on your desk instead of your outstretched hand.

Before you can pull your hand away he grasps your wrist gently. He watches you closely for a reaction and you find yourself nodding at his unspoken question. Bending down he draws his nose over your wrist, breathing deeply to take in your scent. The feel of his lips brushing over your skin makes a needy whine bubble up from your throat and warmth bloom in your chest. He watches your reaction from underneath his eyelashes, sharp blue eyes taking in the way your chest heaves and you shudder. Your eyes flutter when you feel his teeth scape over your pulse point before he pulls away and straightens. 

“I’ll pick you up at 6 pm tomorrow, Omega.”

He gives you a soft smile before he turns to go. You’re surprised when he stops at the entrance, fingers drumming along the doorframe as his gaze sweeps over you one last time. Your mind and body are buzzing with what just happened and you pick up your book to hold it tightly to your chest. You didn’t expect to get it back, let alone be asked on a date by Bucky. It’s all a little overwhelming and you find yourself running your hand over the spine to soothe yourself but it’s unexpectedly rigid and firm. 

When you look at it fully you’re surprised to find it’s been rebound and the faded cover restored. It’s excellent craftsmanship, the subtle changes almost imperceptible. It nearly looks new but when you flip open the first page your father’s looping handwriting is still present. It’s not until you turn the page that another note flutters out, landing on your desk. You pick up the piece of paper, torn from something else and read the message written in the cramped, unfamiliar handwriting. 

_Things that are broken don’t have to stay that way. -JBB_


	2. Chapter 2

The flowers arrive when everyone is at lunch and you’re reading at your desk. It’s a simple arrangement of daffodils and white anemones interspersed with greenery. The fragrance is light, subtle enough not to be overwhelming unless you press your face close. There’s a note attached, written in the same cramped handwriting from yesterday. You can’t help but smile when you read it. 

_I’ll pick you up at 6pm in the west parking garage. Enjoy the flowers._

You spend most of lunch looking at them and running your fingers over the velvet petals, your book forgotten. When you hear the clatter of heels and voices that signal the return of your coworkers you hide the flowers under your desk. Your coworkers had all but interrogated you yesterday. Lying wasn’t something you made a habit of but you knew it was better to tell them Bucky just came to return to your book. For an initiative focused on saving the world, the compound had a horrible gossip problem and not just because of the admins. You didn’t want news of you and Bucky being passed around, especially since there was a very good chance nothing would come of it. 

The six hours after lunch are an exercise in patience. Your only saving grace is that it’s a Friday so most people clear out early and by 5pm you’re the last one left. You take the small black bag containing everything you need to get ready for your date, and lock yourself in the single bathroom. You shake out the wrinkles on your green dress. It wasn't something you’d normally wear, the sweetheart neckline was too low for work but it fit and flared in all the right places. You’d been saving it for something special. 

You keep your makeup light, some concealer to hide your blemishes and the troubling pimple that seemed to sprout up overnight. A thick coat of mascara is all you use to highlight your eyes before swiping on some lip gloss. You primp your hair and step into your dress, changing out your boring black flats for a low pair of heels. Standing in front of the mirror you look over yourself with a critical eye before taking a fortifying breath and heading back to your desk to pack up. 

By the time you drop everything off at your car it’s nearly 6pm. You find Bucky waiting at the entrance to the parking garage, dressed similarly to yesterday in a nice pair of pants and a button down shirt. This time he wears a black glove over his left hand and you feel a little pang of sadness thinking about how he feels the need to hide it outside the compound. 

“Hi,” you tell him, sounding breathless.

“Hey sweetheart. You look beautiful,” he says. 

The low tone of his voice sends a tingle up your back. You feel his eyes sweep over your body in appreciation but there’s nothing suggestive about his gaze. He looks at you like someone admiring a sculpture or painting for its beauty. It makes you preen a little and let out a small chirp that has him smiling softly at you.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you tell him, rocking on your heels to dispel the nervous energy you feel. “They are beautiful.”

“I don’t remember everything from before,” Bucky says, rubbing the back of his neck as he frowns. “But my dad always bought my ma flowers. Every Friday on his way home from work. Even when money was tight he’d at least get her a carnation or something.” 

“Oh, that’s lovely,” you tell him with a smile. The story makes warmth swell in your chest along with something small and painful as you think of your own father. 

“Do you like Italian?” Bucky asks, settling a large hand on the small of your back as he guides you to one of the sleek black cars lined up at the front of the garage. 

He opens the door for your, letting you get settled in the seat before buckling you in and moving to the drivers’ side. He gives you a smile before laying an arm across the back of your seat and turning around to back the car out of the parking spot. You lick your lips and smooth down your dress, feeling a fissure of nervous energy as silence falls between you. You’re not sure where he’s taking you but it’s at least a 30 minute drive to the nearest town from the compound. 

Just when your anxiety compels you to open your mouth to say something, anything really, Bucky speaks. He asks you about your family and your job, prodding you with gentle questions and a sweet smile. Before you know it you’re pulling up in front of a small Italian eatery in a strip mall that you’ve driven past countless times but never dined at.

Inside it’s beautiful and intimate, decorated in soft colors that make it homey and romantic all at once. But what really captures your attention is the large tree in the middle of the room. Its thick branches disappear into the ceiling which is lined with fairy lights, twinkling in the dimly lit room. It almost makes you feel like you’re dining outside.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe in awe. 

“It is,” Bucky agrees but when you turn to look at him he’s staring at you. 

Heat rises to your face and you look away, embarrassed and overwhelmed by what you see in his gaze.

“Come on,” he says, hand settling on your back again as you follow the hostess and take a seat next to the large tree. You pass your fingers over the bark, surprised to find it feels real. When you look back to Bucky he’s smiling at you. You bite your lip and look away, making yourself busy by looking over the menu. Everything looks good and you’re relieved to find the pricing is reasonable. Bucky seems like a traditional Alpha so you know he’ll insist on paying but at least you won't feel bad about being expensive. 

When the waitress, a young Omega, comes to your table to take your order she speaks to Bucky first. The restaurant has an old school vibe so you’re not surprised when you’re ignored in favor of an Alpha. Tradition meant they ordered and were served before their Omegas.

“I can’t choose,” Bucky says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he looks at you over his menu. “Why don’t you pick something for the both of us?”

Out of the corner of your eye you see the surprise on your waitress's face, her wide eyes darting between the two of you. Back when you dated Alphas you lost count of the number of times they ordered without your input, insisting on a salad more often than not. It was one of many reasons you stuck to dating Betas. They didn’t seem to care as much about pack dynamics. 

“Oh, um,” you start, flustered and unprepared to have two sets of eyes on you. “I don’t know what you like,” you tell him with a frown. 

“I’ll eat anything,” he assures you, reaching out to brush his thumb over the back of your hand. The touch makes you tense and then relax. 

After a moment of hesitation, you close your menu and look up at the waitress. “We will take the spaghetti carbonara.”

“Soup or salad?”

You look at Bucky but he only smiles at you encouragingly. 

“Soup,” you say, swallowing as Bucky continues to move his thumb back and forth over your hand. His skin is warm and calloused but like you like the way it feels.

“A bottle of your house red,” Bucky adds, not looking away from you.

When the waitress leaves he pulls back and settles in his seat. He regards you carefully, bright blue eyes wandering over your face. You resist the urge to fidget under his gaze and look away.

“Thank you for rebinding my book,” you say, fingers tapping nervously on the table. 

“Of course,” he tells you with a soft expression. “I could tell it was well loved.” 

You like the way he smiles at you and the dimples that form in the wake of such warm emotion. 

“My dad always said I loved a little too hard on my books. Bent pages, ripped covers. At one point I’m pretty sure I duct taped a few spines back together,” you admit.

“I saw he wrote you a note on the inside. Was it a gift from him?” Bucky asks.

“Yes. He passed a few years back.” A lump forms in your throat and you look away. “Cancer. It was quick.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Bucky says, tone gentle. 

You blink back the tears that want to fall and wave off his concern, withdrawing your hand when he reaches for you. 

“It’s okay, it was years ago.”

He frowns. “When I came back to myself my family was gone, everyone I knew really, except Steve. That kind of hurt doesn’t just go away.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you agree quietly. 

The odd, sad silence you share is interrupted by the return of the waitress with your wine and soup. 

“Have you read the Harry Potter books?” You ask Bucky, taking a sip of the wine. It’s smooth but a little tart and you make a pleased sound that has Bucky licking his lips and leaning forward. 

“Yes and saw the movies,” he says. “I’ve always loved science fiction and fantasy. Was excited to find Tolkien wrote more after the Hobbit.”

“I bet seeing the movies was an experience,” you say with a grin. 

“Sam was excited to show them to me. Steve fell asleep 30 minutes in,” he tells you with an eye roll.

Dinner and dessert pass in a blur of conversation about the books you’re both reading and amusing stories Bucky tells you about Sam and Steve. You've almost forgotten you’re on a date and meant to be trying to impress Bucky. Talking with him feels so easy and you're relaxed enough to throw your head back and laugh when he tells you a particularly embarrassing story about Steve and fondue. 

You wipe the tears from your eyes and return your attention to him, surprised to find his gaze trained on your throat. When you swallow his eyes follow that motion and warmth blossoms in your chest as you wonder what his teeth would feel like in your neck. You clear your throat, face hot at the thought of it. 

“We should head out,” Bucky says, glancing around at the empty restaurant. 

It’s not until you check your phone that you realize it’s nearly 11:30 and well past closing. After paying, Bucky helps you back into your coat and returns his hand to the small of your back. You can feel the warmth of it even through all the layers of clothes. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he never touches you with his left hand and the way he kept it under the table for most of the meal. 

The car ride back to the compound is silent but it’s not awkward like you felt at the start of the date. Instead, it’s comforting and you like the way being enclosed in the small space amplifies his woodsy scent. You know it’ll cling to your clothes for the next few hours and you’re not ashamed to admit you’re probably going to bury your nose in the fabric once you’re home alone. 

When he parks the car you shift in your seat, desperate to extend your date with him even though it's nearly midnight. 

“I had a wonderful time.”

“So did I,” he tells you, that same contemplative expression from dinner back on his face. He almost looks hesitant, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’m aware these things have fallen out of fashion... everything polite seems to have,” he murmurs with a frown. “But I’m not chasing any Omega I can find. I am courting. Looking for a mate and I think you feel the same way,” he tells you softly. 

You swallow heavily when he leans forward and takes your hand in his. He brushes his thumb over your wrist, the action making you draw in a shaky breath. 

“I've had my eye on you for a while,” he admits, surprising you. “I see how sweet you are. You have a kind heart and that’s rare. Didn’t mean to but I overheard you with your friend Kate sometimes. The serum makes it hard to tune things out.”

Heat rushes to your face as you think about what he could have possibly heard and your heartbeat picks up, hammering away in your chest. A low rumble from Bucky’s throat, more of a purr than a growl, makes your body relax and your heart slow down. 

“Didn’t overhear anything bad. Just that you wanted something real. A family.”

“Why didn't you say anything before...the incident?” You ask him. 

He pulls away from you with a laugh but it’s a hollow sound. 

“Omegas aren’t exactly lining up to date a reformed Hydra assassin,” he says and you don’t miss the way he clenches his left hand, leather glove creaking. “Wasn’t sure you’d be receptive and I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Oh. I do. Like you, that is.”

“Yeah, I got that after the scene in the cafeteria,” he says, that beautiful smile back on his face, teasing you.

You groan and bury your head in your hands. 

“None of that now,” Bucky chides, pulling your hands away from your face. You like the feeling of his fingers encircling your wrists, scents mingling together. “You made a big impression on Steve. He's a fan."

His words make you smile, and your eyelids flutter when he squeezes your wrist gently. The soft whine that falls from your lips has him leaning across the console to cup your face with his flesh hand. 

“Can I?” he whispers and you nod, leaning your head to the side. 

He brushes your hair out of the way, exposing your neck and shoulder to his gaze. You shiver as the cool air touches your skin but keep still as his hand slips from your face and sweeps across your throat. You breathe in deeply, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed by him when his scent fills your nose and mouth. He noses along your jaw and rubs his wrist more firmly across your mating gland. This isn’t something that’s going to wash away easily, you’ll carry his scent for a few days at least. 

He pulls back, hovering close to your face and you part your lips in invitation. His kiss is firm but sweet, chaste almost. He pulls away with a smile, tilting his head to the side and inviting you to mark him. Bucky shudders when your wrist passes over his neck and throat. His skin is warm under yours and the low, wanting growl he lets out has you squeezing your thighs together. 

Before you can pull your hand away he captures it in his own, pressing it against his cheek. He nuzzles your palm, eyes closed as his lips press to your wrist. The intimate gesture makes your body feel hot and tight all over. When he opens his eyes again they’re a deeper shade of blue and heat curls in your stomach. 

“Let me walk you to your car,” he says, the rough tone of his voice letting you know he’s just as affected as you are by what just happened.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod instead. Bucky keeps his hand on your back while walking through the deserted parking lot. When you stop at your car he kisses you again, lips moving languidly over your own. You sigh, relishing the feel of his hands rubbing up and down your back as he pulls away.

“I’d like to see you again. Sunday if you’re free. There’s a nature preserve with paved walking trails nearby we could go to.”

“That sounds great,” you tell him. 

There’s something old fashioned and sweet about the idea of taking a walk together. Most men would have invited you to see a movie or something equally impersonal for a second date but Bucky is different in a way that excites you.

“Text me when you get home, Omega.”

“I will,” you tell him, your hindbrain buzzing from everything that’s happened and the gentle command in his tone.


End file.
